


Go Fast, Turn Left

by jelly123



Series: SPN AU & TROPE BINGO [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Car Racing, Car Accidents, Cocky Dean Winchester, F/M, Mild Language, Motor Sports, Photographer Dean, Photography, Racing, SPN AU Bingo, Sexist Dean, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-02-27 22:37:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13258056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelly123/pseuds/jelly123
Summary: As a Motorsports photographer you’re used to things happening faster than you can blink, cars are whipping past you going excessive speeds. But one night, a man with enticing eyes and a cocky smile thinks he can do your job better. Will the nature photographer be able to keep up, or will he go home with the checkered?





	1. Try and Keep Up

**Author's Note:**

> _**I had been wanting to write something racing related for some time now, and once I saw this on my bingo card the wheels started turning.** _

The second I stepped out of my car, the smell of fuel hit me. To me, there was no better smell to remind me of home, of nights helping my Dad fix up his car, of weekends spent at the track. Which is kind of funny, considering what I decided to do for with my Saturdays.

 

* * *

 

It started the summer of my junior year, a friend had said her boss was looking for an extra hand and asked if I was interested. I had never done anything like it, but I knew how much I loved spending time around race cars. I figured I’d at least get a summer of being at a track again. I’ve never fallen in love with something so fast.

It is a different kind of rush. Chasing down cars, always looking for the next shot; relishing in the moment when drivers decide that their skills are better than what they are, and you’re the one to capture that moment. I was practically vibrating every time I walked off the track at the end of each night. It’s the same reason I agree to take over when the old man decided it was time to retire.  I just couldn’t get enough.

I found myself pulling into the gates each and every Saturday, despite my friends begging me to go out. To do something actually fun, were their exact words every time. They just didn’t get it, this is fun.

 

* * *

 

Double-checking my gear, I made my way to the scoring tower to pick up my radio for the night. I didn’t have to have one, it just made me feel better to know what was going on. Turning it on, I caught the last few words of a call.

“-pit gate. Says he’s media.”

“You know the drill; let him in, send him to Y/n.” The owner, Bobby, responded.

“Charlie,” I called, “Keep him there, I’m on my way over.”

“Sounds good.” She answered.

I don’t mind when other photographers come to my track, it’s great publicity for Bobby and it’s usually fun to watch them try and keep up with me. There’s just a few house rules to go over, so everyone can get their shots and no toes are stepped on. Really, it’s just common courtesy.

Though the pit gate is the opposite end of the property, it doesn’t take me long to reach it. Spotting me, Charlie gives a quick wave before pointing me in the direction of this other photographer. For a fraction of a second, I’m confused. The only one in that direction, is a flannel-clad guy, leaning against a ‘67 Impala. He looks nothing like the hobby photographers we get up from the city, the ones that think taking pictures of moving cars is easy.

This guy looked like he was headed to a classic car show, not spend a day at a race track. The black beast holding him up was sure to pull out of here tonight covered in dirt and brake dust, messing up her perfect clear finish.

Reminding myself of my manners, I walked over to him and introduced myself.

“Hi,” I said, grabbing his attention, “I’m-”

“I don’t appreciate being told to stay outside the gate and wait for someone to come talk to me. I have every right to be here, I’ve done nothing wrong.” _Okay, rude. Yeah, I’m going to get along great with this guy._

“I’m sorry about that, I find it’s easier for me to just come to you, rather then you trying to figure out who I am.” I shrugged, trying to keep my tone calm and my face friendly. “I’m Y/n, track photographer.”

“That’s great Princess. If you stay out of my way, we’ll get along just fine.” He grumbled, not even bothering to offer his name, and turned to grab his camera from the back seat of his car.

“Dude, I am sorry that you feel you’ve been mistreated, really I am. And I don’t know how things work from wherever you’re from, but here, the house photographer is lead on everything. We work together so everyone gets their shot and nobody gets mowed over.” I was really proud of myself on how I was handling him, guys like him have no right.

“Well if you see the house photographer, send him my way. I’ll gladly talk to him, not some Pit Bunny.” He scoffed and brushed past me, and it took everything in my power to not chase him down and give him a piece of my mind.

“Bobby, channel two please.” I called into the radio and switched it to said channel.

“What’s up Kid?” His gruff voice answered.

“Met the guy. Total douche with a capital D. He’s not allowed infield. He doesn’t want to play by the rules, then he only gets outside shots.” There, that’ll fix his little red wagon. “He’s got a problem with it, send him to me.”

“You sure you want to play hard ball?” Bobby asked.

“100%. He doesn’t even think I’m the track’s photographer. He doesn’t want to give the respect; he’s not getting any from me.” I confirmed.

“Alright. I’ll pass it on.”

“Thanks Bobby.”

Content with one-upping him, I set back down the pits, anxious to actually get to work. I was determined not to let one asshole bring down my entire day. I had enough of them running around to not have to worry about him.

The day was perfect, not a cloud in the sky and we were starting earlier, which meant that it’d be daylight for a while. Less time would be spent having to fight with the lighting at night. I grabbed my own gear and headed up to turn four to get some shots from the outside of practice.

“Hey Y/n.” The corner guy, Rory, waved as I walked up.

“Hey.” I waved back.

“You ready for a good night?” He asked.

“Always. That is, if the boys can play nice.” I joked.

“Pssh. They always play nice.” He laughed.

“Yeah, okay. There's four nights left, and points are tight all around. Good luck with that.” I pointed out.

“I’m right and you know it.” He winked.

I shook my head, not bothering to answer. It’s part of my job to know exactly where all the drivers stood in relation to points. The last time I looked, it would take a miracle for the next few weeks to go smooth.

 

* * *

 

Much to my surprise, the night was actually going by pretty quick. We made it through the heats with little to no incidents; even then it was just cars getting loose. There was even time for a 15-minute intermission before features started. I was actually about to call Rory and tell him he might have been right for a change, when he beat me to it.

“Hey Y/n?”

“I know. I know. Don’t rub it in, okay? Besides, there’s still four races left in the night.” I laughed.

“Hold that thought for now. I’ve got a photographer here that wants infield. What’s the call?” He asked.

I looked up from my spot and saw the same guy from earlier. I’d forgotten about him, he didn’t even bother to make it in and I really wasn’t paying attention to him in the pits.

“He’s not allowed in. Doesn’t like it, send him to Bobby.” I said.

“10-4.”

I watched everything unfold; Rory turned and addressed Mr. Rude, he then in turn threw his arms in the air, even from over here, you could see the anger roll off of him in waves. I almost felt bad for the guy, he was only here to do his job. Still, that doesn’t excuse the fact that he is being a complete ass clown.

“Y/n/n?” Rory called again.

“What is it now?” I sighed, knowing the answer already.

“Your friend here is demanding to be allowed infield, says he doesn’t need to go talk to Bobby, that it’s already been cleared by him.” Poor guy, he sounded scared to even be telling me this.

“That’s utter bullshit.” I groaned, “You know what? At this point, just fucking let him in. We’re taking over the channel too much and by the looks of it, Mack wants to start getting the show on the road.” I was way past my point of calm, this guy had found the last nerve I had and stomped on it, without ever having a second conversation with me. To say I was fed up with him, was an understatement.

I didn’t even bother to watch what happened next over in the corner. I set about rechecking my gear and making sure the settings were right now that the light was changing.

 

* * *

 

The first two features went great. Nothing big happening and the winner’s circle went without a hitch. (I was the only photographer, dude didn’t even bother.)

The late models were a completely different story. Points leader, Sam Winchester was racing his way through the pack, looking for any holes to gain position. When he made it to second place, the kid leading, Jake, gave him a run for his money. For almost ten laps they played cat and mouse; Jake would make like he was losing steam and Sam would go high to pass, only for Jake to change gears and pull away. It didn’t matter if Sam went high or low, Jake was one step ahead of him.

That was until three laps to go, Sam had had enough. Don’t get me wrong, off the track Sam Winchester is one of the nicest guys going, but with a championship on the line and some kid playing with him, even the nicest person has their limits.

Sam feigned going high, only to dive under Jake the second he made a move to block him. As he was passing, Sam drove Jake up into the wall. It’s a move I’ve seen a dozen times, but this time Jake must not have been expecting it. Instead of keeping control and bringing the car back down, he continued to climb the fence, ripping out most of it on his way. Thankfully, he managed to land on his wheels, still that’s a rough ride for anybody.

The red flag was out, and it was safe to say that the night was over. Just like any other bad wreck, the second the car came to a stop, my camera was down. No one wants pictures of them in a terrible moment, it’s out of respect for the driver and the crew working to get them out of the car and making sure they are alright.

Turning to gather up my gear, I notice Mr. Asshat standing maybe 15 feet away from the wreck, camera held high. This was it, the final straw. It’d be one thing if both drivers were out of their cars and the all clear had been given, but Jake was still in his, medics concerned with his back and neck after the bone-jarring landing he took.

Keeping in mind the hundreds of people that could see everything, I walked right up to him, lining my body up with his lens. My arms crossed over my chest, one eyebrow arched and seeing nothing but red.

“I don’t give a flying rat’s ass who you think you are, nothing gives you the right to take shots of someone in a moment like that! It’s absolutely appalling, and just a plain dick move!” Though my voice sounded calm, the venom was dripping throughout.

“Yeah, well the kid had it coming, shouldn’t have been riding Sammy like that.” He shrugged like he was discussing the weather, not someone’s possible injury.

“News flash asshole, that’s racing. Egos get in the way of ability, a concept I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“Just get out of my way Princess.” He said, rolling his eyes and lifting his camera back up.

I didn’t move, I stood my ground. I don’t know if it was just his attitude or his actions, but this guy was seriously rubbing me the wrong way.

“You need to leave,” Again the venomous calm was back, “Now.”

“Whatever, I got all I needed anyway.” He huffed, turning and headed off the track.

As I watched him walk away, all I could think was he better not step foot on my track again.


	2. Rubbin' is Racing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This time round, you were determined to have a good night. Forgetting all about what happened last week, you move forward ready for another Saturday night at your favourite place._

* * *

 

_It took me almost the entire week to cool off and forget about the incident at the track. I like to_ _think I’m a fair and patient person, it usually takes a lot for something to actually bother me. I don’t know what it was, but that guy really got under my skin._

_It’s a new day, what happened last week, happened._ _It’s time to move forward and focus on what I do best; taking fucking awesome pictures of race cars._

_Wanting to get a head start on my day, I ended up arriving much earlier than I normally do. Only a handful drivers were milling about, some doing last minute work to their cars. The calm and quiet surrounding the track was almost eerie. Where are the revving engines? The laughter of a pit crews joke, the drivers bickering back and forth about something that happened weeks ago? It felt wrong._

_Maybe that’s why the sudden squealing of rubber on gravel made me jump. It was out of place in the otherwise quiet air._

_Looking around for the source of the sound, the breath caught in my throat when I found it. The fact that it was an Impala was enough to give it away; add in the pristine metallic black coat, all doubt fled._ _He was back._

_I wanted nothing more than to walk right up to him and tell him to not even bother getting out of his car, that he was not welcome here. I knew that I couldn’t though. I may have free roam, but it’s not my track, I don’t have exclusive rights to it._

_Instead, I put on the best “friendly” face I could muster and waved at him. I wasn’t all that surprised to not get a wave back._ _I was being a royal See You Next Tuesday to him last week._ _Biting the bullet, I decide to extend the olive branch a bit further._

_Steeling my frustration, I walked over to him, ignoring the very obvious eye roll directed at me._

_“Look, last week we got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry, it wasn’t very professional of me. I’m willing to put all of that aside and work with you,” I was watching his face, waiting for any signs this was going to go in a different direction, “If you’re willing to, that is.”_

_A look of annoyance flashed through his green eyes, before his face settled into a mask of indifference._

_“Sure Princess, if it gets you off my ass.” He sighed._

_“First off, it’s Kellie.” In order for him to have even an ounce of respect for me, he was going to have to start using my actual name, “Secondly, this only works if we actually communicate. You need a shot? Tell me, and I’ll help get it set up.”_

_“Whatever.” He huffed, the annoyance winning over._

_“And lastly, I don’t know your name. I can’t keep calling you ‘Dude’ or any of the other names I’ve come up with.”_

_“Dean.”_

_“Okay, Dean. Is there anything I should know about you? A certain shot you’re looking for today?” I asked, thankfully that this was turning out better than our meeting last week._

_“I’m mostly here for my brother. He’s been bugging me to come watch him for a while and I thought I’d take pictures while I’m here.” Dean shrugged, turning to gather his camera from his car._

_“So photography a hobby or...?” I trailed off, starting to walk with him._

_“More so my career. Mostly do nature shit, birds, landscapes, things like that. Figured cars couldn’t be any different.” His nonchalance about it hit a nerve, but I bit my tongue._

_“I don’t know about that, to me there’s a lot of reading people when it comes down to it. If you can’t do that, then you’re never going to get the shot you’re looking for.”_

_“Nah, there’s a lot going on. There’s always a shot.”_ _True enough._

_“I’ll give you that one,” I smiled, “But, if you want the action, then you have to pay attention.”_

_“If you say so.” Again, he shrugged._

_“Alright, what about last week. The incident between the 67 and 77 late model? Were there any signs that that was going to turn sour?” I was pushing my point a little, but I wanted to see where exactly he stood._

_“Something was bound to happen; the kid was riding Sam all night.” He said something similar that night, “I figured Sam was just going to bump him out of the way and that would be it. No way anyone saw 77 climbing the wall.”_

“So you were paying attention.” I smirked, “It’s true most of the time you can’t predict what exactly is going to happen, but if you’ve done this job long enough, you know the signs that something big is going to happen. I saw this particular accident coming ten laps before it did.”

“And you just let it happen?” Weird question, but I’ll take it.

“Not my place to interfere,” I shrugged, “Someone wants to make a call that it’s getting to be a little more than racing, they can, but for the most part I’m there to photograph it and that’s it. You don’t disturb the wildlife you shoot, do you?”

Dean mulled my words over, trying to pick them apart. He really isn’t familiar with the inner politics of a track, but I can see the comprehension set in.

“No.”

We settled into a comfortable silence of sorts after that. More cars had shown up and the track was starting to come to life. Though I could sense he wasn’t all that okay with having to follow me around, he didn’t say anything about it. Maybe last week we really just had gotten off on the wrong foot, maybe I let me own ego get in the way. If I were being honest, we actually worked really well together.

 


	3. White Flag, Last Lap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _This week started off on a sour note, but by the time I pulled in to the track, I was ready to finish off the week on a better one. And maybe so does someone else._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant for this to be posted a little while ago, life happens I guess.. Anyway, currently working on editing the last chapter so I should have it up by Tuesday!

It was only Sunday and my week was shaping up to be disastrous. My main computer, the one that is pretty much exclusively for my photos, took the worlds largest crap and would not restart. Didn’t matter what I tried to do to fix it, nothing worked. So instead of the usual 8-ish hours it takes me to get a sort done, I was still working through it by Wednesday on my slow as balls laptop.

I was frustrated, sleep-deprived and just plain cranky. I don’t like being late with the upload, it was a standard set by the old man and one I was proud of keeping. I may have hung up on Charlie when she called to talk. I don’t even know what it was about.

Quickly the guilt set in, it wasn’t her fault that I was upset. Knowing she deserved an apology I sent her a message.

I didn’t want to look at them. If they were worth mentioning, they were one of two things. One, the were really bad and I wouldn’t be able to face him if he decided to show up at the track again. Or two, they were fucking amazing and I’m out of a job.

Sucking it up, I opened the link.

At first I thought Charlie sent me the wrong link, it opened to a wildlife page. But as I was scrolling through, I saw the cars and their drivers. Just shooting his brother my ass.

The natural beauty and realness of what he captured was stunning. Most times when another photographer shows up, their final product is heavily edited and the colours are so punched and saturated that you can't tell what the original colour of the car was. But with Dean there was barely, if any, retouching.

Curiosity taking over, I backed up and went through his usual stuff. He kept the images raw, letting the natural light and colours be the main focus.

To me, the amount of editing and retouching says a lot about a photographer. If there’s too much, they’re either not confident in their work or it’s not that good and they are trying to cover it up. Most disagree. They argue that it adds to the photo, makes it more artistic. I guess it all depends on perspective.

I can’t worry about his work, no matter how good I think it is. My own needs to be finished and uploaded. Closing my browser, I went back to work, praying that I could finish before my laptop blew up.

 

Saturday came too fast this week. I just barely got everything up on time and now I have to turn around and fight with them all over again. At least I have a day of doing something I love before that happens. That might be the only take away of having my computer die. I love my job and there isn’t anything I’d rather do.

The track was bursting with life when I pulled in. Crews and drivers were tinkering on their cars, completing any last minute adjustments, well those who weren’t doing practice laps. It was such a drastic difference to when I pulled in last week.

It wasn’t long before I was set up and starting to wonder through the pits, capturing people working on cars, or drivers in deep conversations with their crews. I like it best when they either pretend I’m not there, or really don’t know. It makes for a beautifully candid shot. You tell someone to stand beside something, the photo becomes posed, forced. To me, you want the realest picture you can get.

Walking around the section the late models took up, I was so focused on lining up a shot of a driver with his head in his engine, wrenching on some part, that I didn’t notice the person standing behind me.

“What do you think you’re doing Princess?” I jumped slightly, not expecting it to sound so close.

“Jesus Christ!” I cried, turning around.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” Dean held his hands up, stepping back, “I thought you knew I was standing there.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t.” I felt awkward, usually I’m more aware of my surroundings, “Just, please don’t do it again.”

“Since you asked nicely.” He shrugged.

“Thank you.”

I didn’t know what to think of that interaction. It’s the complete polar opposite of the last two weeks. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was trying to flirt, but I do know better. Maybe he’s just coming around.

“I see you’ve met my brother.” I jumped again, throwing me from my inner thoughts.

“So it’s family trait to sneak up on people and scare the crap out of them?” I asked, looking up at the man behind me.

“Sorry. I don’t try to make it a habit.” He laughed, extending an oily hand, “Sam Winchester.”

“We’ve met before Sam.” I reminded him, taking the offered hand and shaking it. “You’ve been in my winner circle a few times this year.”

“I know. Just then I didn’t get to formally introduce myself.” He laughed again, if Sam and Dean are actually related, I’ll eat my camera lens.

“It’s nice to officially meet you.” I smiled, “You ready for tonight?”

“He’s more than ready, that kid has no chance of getting past him.” I thought he walked away?

“Come on Dean, I told you when you first came up, no picking favourites.” Sam said.

“How can I not pick my little brother as a favourite? You’re a good driver Sammy.” There was so much pride written all over his face. It was weird seeing this side of him. Once again it had me wondering if I pegged him all wrong.

“It’s fine to have a driver you’re rooting for, just not to make it public knowledge.” I butted in.

“See, even Princess agrees with me.” I rolled my eyes at the ‘Princess’ comment.

“I don’t agree, necessarily.” I started, “My theory is, if a driver asks, which they usually don’t, but if they do, you say they’re your favourite, even if you can’t stand him or you don’t pick sides. To me, this is strictly business. No sense getting into the middle of a disagreement between egos.”

“So, I’m your favourite driver, right Y/n?” Sam asked, one eyebrow arching.

“Of course.” I laughed, playing along.

“You too are dorks.” Dean huffed.

“Takes one to know one.” Sam poked.

“Whatever. I’ve got to go sign in. See ya infield?” He asked.

“Sure.” I said, giving him a short wave. As soon as he was out of earshot, I turned back to Sam, “What’s the deal with him?”

“Not sure I understand the question?” He looked genuinely confused.

“Your brother. What’s his deal? When he first showed up, he was nothing but a complete dick, now he’s acting all nice? Did he get laid or have the stick removed from his ass?”

“No, nothing like that. That I know of anyway.” Sam chuckled, “He’s not a bad guy, really. Just when he steps into a new project he likes to show that he can do it, on his own. Especially if there is heavy competition. He’s kind of really competitive.”

“Didn’t see that at all.” I was being sarcastic, but it made sense what Sam was saying. I can be pretty territorial when it comes to my track. “I didn’t make it easy on him to find his footing. He gave attitude so I gave it back.”

“He needs that sometimes. His own ego gets in the way, a lot. His wildlife stuff has gotten him noticed quite a bit, won a few awards, even featured in an issue of National Geographic.” Sam showed the same level of pride that Dean did when he was talking about Sam and racing.

“I did not know that. I guess short track photography is kind of a blow to said ego then, huh?” I asked.

“He doesn’t see it like that. To him, it’s a new challenge. It’s something new for him and he wants to be the best right out of the gate.” I felt like I was seeing Dean in a whole new light, just by talking with Sam.

“I’ll keep that in mind when he tries to be an ass again.” I laughed.

“As long as you don’t put up with his shit, you’ll be fine.” He joked. “I’ll let you get back to work though. Can’t let my brother have all the fun.”

“I’m sure he’s loving having free roam and me not breathing down his neck.” I was kidding, mostly, I was starting to not mind having him around. It kept me on my game, kept me from slacking off.

“Seriously, don’t let him push you around. He needs someone like you in his life.” Sam’s comment caught me off guard. Or maybe it was my own confusing thoughts on the older Winchester. What did he mean be it?

I couldn’t get my head wrapped up in that. I was here to work, not form any kind of relationship other than friendly, or professional. I needed myself focused on the job at hand, not worrying about if Dean Winchester could be anything other than a co-worker.

But maybe, this was a situation where I could have my cake and eat it too?

 


	4. Victory Lane

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _The week started off crappy, so who was to say how it would end?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **_This is it! The end.. I’m so happy with how this turned out, I love this universe I created.. And I’m finding it a little sad that it’s now over. But fear not! I have some more AU’s coming your way!_ **

To say I was distracted the rest of the night was an understatement. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Sam said. “ _He needs someone like you in his life._ ” Seriously, what did he mean by that? And why was I so hung up on it? He probably didn’t mean anything by it, just that his brother could use more friends? Even telling myself that I didn’t buy it.

Was it because even though Dean Winchester pissed me off beyond belief, I was still attracted to him? Yeah, no it can’t be that. I mean, he’s not even that good looking, with his stupid freckles, stupid long bowed legs. Or his stupid impossibly green eyes. Not to mention his attitude. He’s arrogant, self-assured, competitive and can be a complete asshole. So why am I so hung up on him?

Knowing I should be paying attention to what was going on around me, I tried to put my focus back on the cars on the track. But every time I moved my lens, he was there. And I would have to start all over in reclaiming my focus. Honestly, it was getting tiring. The more I thought about it, the more I fought it, and the more I fought it, the more I was getting frustrated.

I was starting to miss shots, which only added to my frustration. I’d be too busy trying not to be distracted by Dean, looking in the opposite direction, that something would happen and I’d miss it.

Once again, I was trying to keep focused, keeping my attention on the track, and not on the tall man on the other side of the field. It was the last race of the night, I had to make it 25 laps and I could go home.

Of course it was the late models, and of course they were not playing nice at all. We were only on lap 5 and have had 3 different cautions. It was like all the ones that usually ran at the back of the pack had their own drivers meeting and were bound and determined to not let this race finish. They were spinning each other out, jumping the restarts, and just plain playing dirty. If I wasn’t already annoyed with my own internal conflicts, I would have been slightly amused. But I wasn’t, it was just adding to it, and at this point in the night I wanted to go home.

We had made it to lap 15 when someone thought their car had more power than it actually did, he blew his motor all over the back stretch. I groaned and lifted my camera off my neck, rubbing the spot where the strap had started to dig in.

“Think they’ll finish this race Princess?” His appearance caught me off guard, last I did see him, he was way off in the corner.

“At this point? Who knows.” I grumbled.

“How can they get away with this?” Dean asked, “Anyone with half a brain could see that most of them are deliberately bringing out the caution.”

“I have no idea why they’re getting away with this, radios are quiet except for when something happens. Usually Mack is all over this kind of thing. They don’t get their shit together soon, something big will happen. Those guys are looking for a fight tonight.” At first I thought it was just me, but after starting to actually pay attention, I could feel the tension rolling off the track in waves.

“Glad to hear I’m not the only one feeling it.” He laughed, “Though, I have to ask, are you okay? You seem a bit distracted tonight.”

Why did he care? If I was off my game today, then he gets the better shots. But what if he genuinely cared? There was only one way to find out, and it wasn’t standing there not saying anything.

“It’s been a rough week.” Not what I wanted to say, mouth, catch up to brain. “And I think I’m just starting to wear out. I usually get that way just before the end of the season, though I’m better at keeping that to myself.” Not lies, but still not what I wanted to say.

“I get it.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want to admit this, but I checked out your work.”

“Really?” Okay, that I wasn’t expecting.

“Yeah.” Was all he said. I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. He didn’t get the chance to, they were getting ready to go green.

Now I had two comments, from both Winchesters clouding my thoughts. Dean’s more so I wanted to know what he thought, if he liked it. That got me. I didn’t need his approval of my work. I knew I was good. Then why was I so worried if he liked it or not? God, I hated this. How can someone who was such a dick, so disrespectful, have this much of my interest?

The sound of tires squealing broke my train of thought. I had been so wrapped up in my own head, that I didn’t notice Jake and Sam going back at it. Except this time, it was Sam climbing the wall, and he didn’t land on his wheels. My first instinct wasn’t to set my camera down and wait for the paramedics and clean up crew do their job; it was to look to Dean.

 I’m glad I did. He was sprinting towards the wreck, camera thrown somewhere behind him. He had that look on his face that he was going to pull Sam from the car himself. Not thinking, I took off. He can’t get in the way, even though he just wants to help, he’s got to let them do their jobs.

I don’t know how I was able to get in front of him, his legs were significantly longer than mine, but I did.

“Dean.” I called out, my presence not enough, “Dean! Stop!”

He slowed, not taking his eyes off of Sam’s overturned car. “Out of the way Princess.”

“No.” I stood my ground. “Let the medics do their job.”

“They need to get Sammy out of that car. They’re not moving fast enough.” Dean growled.

“You think that, but they’re making sure they aren’t risking further injury. Once he’s out, you can ride with him to the hospital.” I was trying to diffuse him, but it seemed he was growing more agitated.  

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. Every second they keep him in that car, the worse are his chances are.” He tried pushing me out of the way, but I slapped his hands away.

“I _do_ know what I’m talking about. Dean, I’ve been doing this for almost ten years, before that I spent almost every Saturday with my Dad here. I’ve seen almost every kind of wreck imaginable. The ones that you can walk away from, and the ones you don’t. This is not one of those, Sam’s going to be fine, couple bruises, couple scrapes, but ultimately he’ll walk away from that.” I hated having to be the voice of reason, but maybe it was the only way from him to listen to me.

Before he could manage to respond, a roar of applause broke over the stadium, that could only mean one thing; Sam was out of the car and walking on his own. Sure enough, when I looked back over my shoulder, he was limping towards the open ambulance.

“See?” I pointed out, “Listen, give me your keys. I’ll grab your gear and take your car over to the hospital.”

He was hesitant at first, but once they started closing the back doors, he knew he was out of time to argue. Dean handed me his keys and raced off towards his brother.  

 

I wish I could say I got a chance to appreciate the beauty that was his car, but time was a factor. I could sense that he wasn’t too keen on letting someone else hop behind the wheel of the ’67 Impala. I did run my hands over the steering wheel before starting her up. The roar of the engine the complete opposite to that of my Cavalier.

The drive to the hospital wasn’t that long, maybe ten minutes. I think Bobby made that a factor when he was in the planning stages of the track. Regardless, I pulled into the visitor parking and made my way through the building down to Emerge.

“Hi there.” The receptionist greeted.

“Hi. I’m looking for Sam Winchester? He and his brother were brought over from Lebanon Speedway?”

“You family?” She asked.

“No, I’m just a friend. They left their car at the speedway and I’m just dropping it off.” I said.  

“Of course.” She answered, “Him and his brother are in room 204. You’ll want to go down the hallway, and to your left. It’s the first room on the right.”

I thanked her and followed the directions she gave me. As I got closer, I saw the door was open and I could hear them talking.  

 “You didn’t have to ride with me. You could have just followed behind.” Sam said.

“Yeah, but I did.” I could practically hear the shrug in Dean’s voice.

“And how are you going to get your car?”

“Y/n is going to bring it over.”

“You’re okay with someone else driving your baby? Dude, you’ve got it bad.” Sam sounded almost smug, like he knew this was coming.

“Shut up Sammy, she offered and I didn’t have time to think, ok? I had just watched my little brother flip his car.”

“Get all defensive if it makes you feel better. Just remember who you’re talking to here.”

Will these two ever stop making my head spin? Am I going to stop letting them? No, probably not. The drive over gave me some quiet time to think, and though I’m not sure why, I came to the conclusion that I liked Dean Winchester.

He was arrogant, cocky, and could be too much of an asshole. But Sam brought out another side to him, one that I didn’t see before. He was fiercely loyal to those he cared about, protective too. My first impression of him was all wrong, and though he didn’t really help in that matter, I could see that ‘good guy’ underneath.

Not wanting to hear anything else to add to my already jumbled thoughts, I knocked on the door and made my presence known.

“Speak of the devil.” Sam grinned from his bed. “We were just talking about you.”

“Were you now? Dean telling you for the millionth time that I’m a giant pain in his ass?” I played along, I felt like I could get away with it, with Sam. He just seemed like that kind of person.

“Nah, actually he was telling me how amazing your work is and he only wishes that he could shoot like you.” A genuine blush crept into my cheeks. It was flattering, and by the look on Dean’s face, there was some truth behind it.

He also shot his brother a look that screamed ‘ _Shut up Sam._ ’ It reminded me of children, when their friend is trying to tell a girl that they like them. It was cute and kind of funny.

“Anyway,” I said, changing the subject, “Brought your car, it’s still in one piece. I’m going to head out, wait for Charlie to come pick me up. Feel better Sam.”

I gave the brothers a short wave, and turned to leave. I didn’t want to intrude any further than I already had. Just because I liked Dean, didn’t mean I’d see him much now that the season was over and Sam was out.

“Y/n, wait.” Surprise took over as I turned around to see Dean jogging to catch up to me.

“What did I forget?” I thought over to what he could possibly need from me.

“My number.” Queue surprise number two.

“Umm. Okay?” Shut up and accept it dummy!

“Look, I know we started out on the wrong foot, and you can be a major pain in my ass. But you don’t take my crap, and you are a kick ass photographer. If nothing else, I’d like to work with you again.” Dean actually seemed nervous, in the time I’ve known him, I haven’t seen him like this.

“Sure.” I handed him my phone and vice versa. There was no harm in it right? “See ya around Winchester.”

“Yeah, Princess, you will.”

 

 


End file.
